


Speechless

by littledust



Category: Firefly
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-17
Updated: 2007-05-17
Packaged: 2017-10-18 02:24:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/183943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littledust/pseuds/littledust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Mal caused Inara to become actually speechless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Speechless

01\. Perhaps being on the run from the law is more romantic than being on the run from oneself, Inara muses, a trifle let down by the dingy shipyard. She flew blind from Sihnon, flights chosen at random, and here she is, in some tiny corner of the galaxy that has apparently never heard of cleaning solution. She steadies herself, walks on--and goes unsteady all over again, breath catching in her throat. If not hope, beauty springs eternal, and occasionally in the form of an old Firefly transport.

02\. _River is having a tea party_ , says Mal when he comes to ask Inara for some of her fancy cups. _Doc says it's good for her to start talking regular to people again. Girl says there's nothin' regular about falling down rabbit holes--and that you're invited._ Inara keeps her lips pressed together to prevent laughter from spilling out. She's not really laughing at him, just at the way his soft spots get more obvious every day.

03\. They're at it again, words flying like knives. These words are rendered blunt by what they cannot say to each other; they are all the more painful as a result. _Even a petty thief should know better than to walk straight into his death,_ Inara snaps, tired of this worry she feels whenever another dangerous job comes up. _Even a whore should know better than to think she can talk this petty thief out of anything,_ Mal replies. There are more knives in the drawer of her mind, but Inara chooses silence instead, bitter and cold.

04\. Mal kisses like whiskey, not at all sweet and burning on the way down. They should leave the bridge before someone comes along, maybe River on her late-night wanderings. _She_ should leave, at the very least; it's undignified, the way he pulled her onto his lap minutes ago, the way she fits inside his arms and around his waist and between his mouth. Nothing about this should be enjoyable, yet here she is undone and honey hot, Mal underneath and the stars outside.

05\. Inara tries not to weep and succeeds; nevertheless her hands tremble as she packs her things, all the soft loveliness tucked away until her shuttle is angular emptiness. Naturally Mal walks through the doorway without asking, looks at her as though memorizing the circumference of her face. She can hear _I love you_ and _Don't leave in his gaze_ , so she schools her expression into a mask that says nothing, nothing at all.


End file.
